


My Maple Walnut to Your Rocky Road

by lmnysnckt



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Dumbasses on Patrol, Ice Cream Shenanigans, M/M, Oneshot Prompts Challenge, Spideypool - Freeform, Tumblr Prompts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-13
Updated: 2020-08-13
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:33:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25871410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lmnysnckt/pseuds/lmnysnckt
Summary: “Maple walnut, and cherry pecan? I get the toffee, but that just sounds boring, sweet, and old.”“I’ll have you know, as a certified, trademark, and copyright issued Canadian, maple walnut is dabomb.com!”“DP, we talked about this. Real ice cream is butterscotch, birthday cake, and gummy bears.”Just a normal patrol night with our two favorite heroes, or the one where Peter and Wade make a scene at the ice cream parlor.
Relationships: Peter Parker/Wade Wilson
Comments: 3
Kudos: 82





	My Maple Walnut to Your Rocky Road

“Welcome to Wiggly Barnum’s Ice Cream Parlor, best ice cream this side of Queens,” says the clerk behind the counter, though there’s cheer in her voice, her expression simply reads ‘fuck off and die.’

Peter has the inclination to waltz right back out of the door, but Wade’s already shoving him further into the ice cream parlor. It’s not everyday you see a giant of a man, strapped in more weapons than an armory, making girlish squeals as they beeline for the glass incased ice cream.

Spider-Man had no reason to feel awkward, or uncomfortable. It was a normal Wednesday, 2 AM in Queens. There was only one other person in the store aside from two questionable vigilantes and the clerk, and that person seemed on the edge of meeting his maker.

“Hey, do you think he’s dead?” Peter hisses at Wade, tugging at the mercenary’s elbow, and staring worriedly at the slumped man in the corner.

Wade’s ignoring him, having an intense conversation with himself and the ‘Boxes’.

“What can I get for you, mister?” surprisingly, the clerk seems unperturbed by Wade’s presence.

Peter wanders if Wade’s been here enough times that his appearance has worn off its natural affect on people, or this clerk was just done with the world as it were.

“Ah, I think I want a double—no a triple scoop of the cherry pecan and maple…shh! I know you want a fucking sundae, I’m going to get that too…where was I, yes…. Maple walnut, cherry pecan, and that toffee looking thing over there.”

The clerk merely offers a flippant sure before starting to work on Wade’s order. Peter on the other hand is wrinkling his nose.

“Are you 80? That’s gross.”

“ _L’haleter!_ How could you say such a thing?”

“Maple walnut, and cherry pecan? I get the toffee, but that just sounds boring and old.”

“I’ll have you know, as a certified, trademark, and copyright issued Canadian, maple walnut is dabomb.com!”

“DP, we talked about this. Real ice cream is butterscotch, birthday cake, and gummy bears.”

“Gummy bears! Gummy bears!” Wade slams his fist on the counter. Startling the clerk to turn and glare at him, and rising a snort…snore? Out of the half dead guy in the corner.

At least Peter now knew the guy wasn’t dead. “Deadpool calm down—“

“I will not calm down in the face of blasphemy,” the lunatic is triggered, “Heya, miss, you hear this brat? Gummy bears, actually gummy bears, he claims…. I KNOW, YELLOW!”

Wade scowls over his shoulder at no one, “You shut up, I am making a statement.” 

“You think gummy bears is an ice cream?” 

It takes a while for both Spider-Man and the clerk to realize Wade is talking to her. She makes a face, plainly reading ‘leave me the fuck out of this,’ but it does nothing to deter the Merc with a Mouth from getting his answer.

“Well, the choir is waiting.”

“It’s a topping—“

“AND THANK YOU!” Wade levels Peter with a wide-eyed stare through his mask, “There you have it, Spider-babe! Fucking gummy bears is a topping, not a fucking ice cream choice you nasty little millennial!”

“Welcome to the 21st century old man, people eat cool foods and tastier options.”

“You bootylicious swine!”

Peter rolls his eyes before tapping the counter as well to catch the clerk’s attention, “Unlike my partner here, I’d like a butterscotch, strawberry, birthday cake triple scoop with gummy bears and… _nutella_.”

Wade lets out the biggest groan Peter’s ever heard from him, and has both his hands clamped on the sides of his head. 

“Are you out of your fucking mind? _Nutella?_ ”

“Make that lots of Nutella,” Peter emphasis by gesturing the clerk poor the whole bottle on his ice cream choices. “Also, sprinkles, all the sprinkles.”

“Disgusting, you are nothing but a perky-butted heathen.”

Peter rolls his eyes, “I like how all your insults are just laced with butt compliments.”

“I find you audacious, but it’s not that beautiful bum of muscular goodnesses’ fault it’s attached to you.” For good measure, Wade actually squats down to eye level with Peter’s spandex-clad ass, and coos at it. “You poor, scrumptiously tight, little tush. I promise I don’t hate you even if your daddy is a disgrace to all ice cream lovers in the world.”

Blushing furiously, and swatting at Wade’s hands when he tries to cop a few feels, Peter walks over to the check out counter. 

“I say what I mean, and I mean what I say.”

“Jokes on you, hot stuff, cause the moment you have a taste of your pillar of shit, you’ll be begging to down mine.” 

“You are so—“ Peter tries to find the words, “Y-you!”

Wade smirks beneath his mask, crossing his arms expectantly, “What? Can’t find it in you to curse? That’s right, baby boy. Good little Boy Scouts have to be polite to their elders.”

Peter lets out a squawk of frustration and then is shoving through his hoodie that does nothing to disguise his Spider-Man suit for a $10.

As per usual, Peter comes up with nothing but two dimes and a nickel and…possibly a piece of lint, but he’s not going to question that too much. He opts to shove the items back in his hoodie pocket, and while he can hear Wade cackling at his dismay of no finances to pay for his debacle of an ice cream cone, the young hero is vigilant to gain the upper hand.

Not caring how it would look for Spider-Man to be assaulting another fellow masked hero, he’s quick to yank Wade toward him, man handle the Merc’s utility belt pockets for what he wants.

Peter pulls out a few stray bullets, a banana peel, and to his horror several used condoms.

“Oh, ew! Wade!” Peter blurts, before dropping said condoms on the floor and waving his hand around in disgusting. 

The Merc only laughs harder, holding his sides as he buckles over while Peter continues to freak out, launching himself across the counter towards the heavenly tub of hand sanitizer, thank you DHS and FDA for restaurant regulations. 

“You are so gross!”

“Ha! You weren’t complaining on the rooftop earlier!” Wade’s chuckling with such delight.

Blushing furiously, and so thankful for the mask on his face, Peter picks up the hand sanitizer, and launches the thing at Wade. Naturally, the older man slices it with a katana, when and where he had the time to pull that out, Peter will never know. 

It’s like the other times Wade manages to pull large items that should never have managed to fit into his pockets, or the time he actually pulled out the pieces to construct a bazooka out of thin air. For all the world of Peter’s magnificent scientific brain, when it came to Wade W. Wilson, the laws of physics never seemed to apply.

“GET A FUCKING ROOM!” Comes a shout that surprised both males out of their quarrel.

The clerk has slammed down both ice cones with their exact orders on to the counter, a bit of the sprinkles littered everywhere, and Wade’s beloved candied cherry topper propels onto Peter’s spider-boot.

“Take your damn ice creams, and get the fuck out of my store!” 

Peter barely makes a peep of an apology, hastily grabbing for the ice creams, bowing his head, and running out of the store before anything else can be done.

Meanwhile, Wade just continues to stare wide-eyed at the clerk, robotically fishing wads of cash from his belt, and laying crumpled hundreds in front of the lady.

He raises his hands in mock surrender, walking backwards out of the store as he watches the lady glare all of her hatred at him. It isn’t until Wade’s standing out in the brisk cold, with Peter whining about wanting to be home already that Wade suddenly slaps his knee and once again starts laughing.

“Oh my honey buns and twinkies…did you see her face? Wow, she was so fucking pissed. Holy shit!” Wade stumbles after Peter who is already walking away.

“Holy shit!” Wade says again when manages to catch up to Peter. “You already said that,” Peter isn’t looking at him though when he says this because he is more concerned with their leaning tower of ice creams would fall.

He may be Spider-Man, but he wasn’t born naturally graceful, and no amount of radioactive biting could save him from that. 

“We totally forgot the used condoms on the floor.” 

“Oh fuck.”

Peter abruptly halts in his step, causing Wade to knock into him and their ice creams to flop on the ground. Wade looks petulantly at the disaster of their dessert before realizing Peter just cursed.

“Did my baby boy just say his first bad word?” 

“Wade, the condoms!” 

“Aaaand?”

“We can’t just leave them there. That’s DNA!” 

“I leave my DNA around all the time. Like that time I blew—“  
“Wade, that’s…t-that’s—“ Peter can’t find the words, but Wade has an idea at what he is getting at. 

His little innocent spider. 

“Alright, we will go back…” Wade hums, “Ten bucks says I can get her to pull out her shotgun on us.”

“Wade!” Peter shouts, but the Merc is already cackling gleefully back to the ice cream parlor.

Well, what’s another Wednesday at 2 AM without saving civilians, and…pissing them off. 

Peter is still planning to prove to Wade though that his ice cream options are way better. 

Speaking of which…

Peter groans dejectedly at the sight of the ruined ice cream splattered in glorious sweet colors on the snowy asphalt. 

Right…wonder if they could get the clerk to make another two cones before she pulls out the shotgun. 


End file.
